Page 25 of His Curse

Cedar and oak, a hint of nutmeg.

Black tea leaves and earth just after the rain.

Cinnamon, amber, and even a splash of charcoal.

An unusual combination, a complex combination, but one that had my bloomers begging to be ripped off and burned. It was a combination that occasionally becomes so strong in my mind that I'd swear Colton was standing ten feet away from me again.

That's mostly when I'm in the Black Box, though.

Thoughts of Colton, of the few minutes we shared so many years ago, are the only thing that keep me sane when I'm being punished for something.

The joy, the love, the completion I felt, the new possibilities he created.

Those are the things that keep me going; the things that prevent me from giving up.

My memory of those few moments coupled with the fantasy of our possible future have been the only comfort I've had the last forty-five-years, even longer really going back to when I was exiled, and it's why I have to keep trying to get out.

I'm not about to let someone else try to take that away from me—not again.

And that, as it usually does, is what gets my gears turning.

I was so close to freedom this last time, so fucking close.

My plan almost worked but Dick got in the way.

He's Kentworth's most loyal, most brutal, guard and he's head of the entire security team. If I can get him distracted the next time I'm taken for tests—which should be within a day or two since I went so long without—then I should be able to do what I did before without his interference.

Criminally insane or not, the other guards don't do anything without Dick's say, and if he's somehow preoccupied then I should be able to use it to my advantage.

And there is only one thing that prevents Dick from torturing us, one thing that takes his focus away long enough to give us a break…

That's fucking it.

I spin from the back wall, trying not to run back to my friends because it'll draw too much attention but fail a little because I'm excited, and when I see the lovebirds chatting and soaking up as much time together as possible, my plan becomes iron clad.

"Who lit your ass on fire?" Wes chuckles as I plop down on the bench next to him.

I shake my head and pour myself a glass of water from the pitcher. “I have a plan."

Bella groans while Chumani bites her lip, but Wes and Hotah lean toward me with curiosity in their eyes.

They—to the great dismay of their mates—always support my plans for escape and that's because they have faith in me.

Not that the females don’t, but they see the way I look after I'm punished, see the results up close and personal, and the two of them have had to take care of me after those punishments too often to get on board with my hair-brained schemes.

"Is Ginger still convinced sleeping with Dick will get her set free?"

Chumani nods slowly. "Yes. She thinks it'll work in her favor, and still acts like she's privileged because of it."

"Is she still helping him with the other girls? Setting it up for him to ambush them?"

Another nod.

"Dick was the only reason I didn't get all the way out this time. When I shifted in the lab and knocked out the doc, the other guards didn't know what the fuck to do. They scattered and froze, and didn't know how to proceed. It wasn't until they got Dick involved that my plan went to shit, and if I can just guarantee he's distracted, guarantee he is preoccupied—"

"By raping the other girls?" Bella snaps. "Lark, that's fucked up even for you."

I shake my head again. "No, of course not. I'd rather cut off my own hands and feed them to wild boars than have him do that, but if I can convince Ginger to meet with him under false pretenses, convince her to lead him to believe she has another victim thenoops,she doesn't but she'll fuck him instead, maybe I have a shot at getting out."

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